“Good God!” said Adams. “Do I remember!”
It was the body of the great beast they had passed when in pursuit of the herd.
Yes, there was no doubt now that Berselius was guiding them aright. He had followed the track they had come by without deviating a hundred yards.
The great animal was lying just as they had left it, but the work of the birds was evident; horribly so, and it was not a sight to linger over.
They descended into the river bed, passed up the other bank, and went on, Berselius leading and Adams walking by his side.
“Do you know,” said Adams, “I was beginning to think you were out of the track.”
Berselius smiled.
Adams, who was glancing at his face, thought that he had never seen an expression like that on the man’s face before. The smile of the lips that had marked and marred his countenance through life, the smile that was half a sneer, was not there; this came about the eyes.
“He was in exactly the same position, too,” said Adams. “But the birds will have him down before long. Well, he has served one purpose in his life; he has shown us we are on the right road, and he has given you back another bit of memory.”
“Poor brute,” said Berselius.